The Singer, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
by ArtificialImagination
Summary: There's a land of eternal winter in Erik's wardrobe. I hope this doesn't cause any problems...
1. Christine Looks Into A Wardrobe

A/N: Since I am re-reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis for the upcoming movie, and since the two fics I am currently working on are either already dark or about to be dark, I decided I'd write a Phantom of the Opera/The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe crossover for something a little lighter. This may not be terrific, since I am no where near as good as a writer as C. S. Lewis or Gaston Leroux, or even a lot of the writers here…but I'm going to try! I also thought it would be fairly interesting, what with Christine's love for fairy tales. Now she can be in one!

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia belongs to C. S. Lewis. The Phantom of the Opera _should_, at least, belong to Gaston Leroux. I own nothing…well, I own SOME things, just nothing in this story. Only a HINT of Susan Kay's Phantom is in here (the use of the Persian's 'name'). And only a hint of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, for Christine and Meg's friendship.

Coupling: Read and find out!

I have no idea where I'm going with this…oh, well. Enjoy!

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Once there was a woman named Christine Daaé. This story is about something that happened to her when she was kept prisoner in an underground house by a genius madman who said he was in love with her. He had told her he was the Angel of Music, and had given her voice lessons until one day she performed at the Paris Opera and did magnificently. Not being able to handle the applause, she had fainted onstage and was taken back to the dressing-room, where, once she had woken up, she met with an old childhood sweetheart. Not wanting to upset the Angel, she pretended she had never seen him before and sent him away. When the room was clear, her Angel took her through the mirror of her dressing-room. Once through, she discovered that he was not, in fact, an Angel, but a masked madman whom many referred to as 'the Opera Ghost'. She fainted again. Once she had woken, she and this so-called 'Ghost' continued their journey down the cellars of the Opera, until they reached his underground home. Once there, he admitted to her that he had tricked her, and told her he loved her. She demanded to be released, but he sung her to sleep instead. The next day when she awoke _again _he was gone, but once he came back they had lunch and he showed her around the house, including his own room, which was black and had a coffin in the center of it. Christine didn't pay much attention to the room but to the coffin, and soon they left the room to sing. While singing, Christine removed the mask and discovered that this 'Ghost' (named Erik) looked like a corpse. After much…violence and screaming, the Ghost retreated to his room. Christine, gathering her courage, entered the room and told him to show her his face without fear. He did, and for a week afterward she pretended to be happy, and led him to believe she loved him.

And it is at this point out story begins.

Christine Daaé sat in front of a mirror, brushing her long golden hair while waiting for Erik to return from some 'errands'. She had been waiting what seemed an eternity (and what was really an hour and a half). Sighing, she set the brush down and picked up a book she had already read twice. She flipped through it, but didn't have the heart to read it again. Christine stood and set aside the book. She had to find something to keep her occupied before she went insane! Looking around, she settled on exploring a little. She hadn't really paid much attention when she had first arrived…maybe, since he was gone, she could look around his room a little more?

She left her room and glanced around the…sitting room?...a little, making certain Erik had not returned yet. Slowly, she walked to the door to his room and tried the handle. The door opened. She opened the door further and stepped inside, her eyes searching the room.

If she ignored the coffin, it really wasn't too horrible of a room…well, yes, it was still horrible, but it was spacious and there was a beautiful old wardrobe of beautiful dark wood, and there were beautiful carvings on the door, and it was just…beautiful. She walked around the coffin and ran her hands over the smooth wood. Curious, she tried the handle and smiled as it opened. She looked inside and found three other evening dress suits (what Erik always wore), and several lovely black cloaks. She ran her hands down them, and then pushed them aside. She frowned when she could not see the back of the wardrobe. Hesitantly, Christine stepped inside, he hands outstretched in front of her. She continued through the wardrobe, wondering how much further to the back it was.

_Curious…_she thought, _it did not look this big from the outside._ Suddenly, she heard a 'crunching' noise that sounded oddly like snow under her feet. It was becoming very cold…and the further she went, the lighter it seemed to become. Christine was scared, yet also excited and curious. What was happening?

Suddenly, she was walking through a forest of trees, and little white snowflakes were falling from the sky. Christine looked behind her. No, the wardrobe and Erik's room was still there. Christine continued ahead, thinking, _What an unusual thing for Erik to put in his wardrobe…a snowy wood! _

Christine soon saw what was causing the light, up ahead...and with a few more steps in the snow, she reached it: a lamppost!

_Why is there a lamppost in the middle of a wood…?_ Christine wondered. She ran her hands up and down her arms, suddenly wishing she had taken one of Erik's thick cloaks. However, Christine closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. How _real_ it all felt! The chill of the winter air, the snowflakes falling onto her hair, the smell of the wood, the cool of the fresh air. She had missed this feeling, and she hadn't even realized it!

Christine's eyes popped open as she heard the _crunch, crunch_ of someone else walking in the snow. Searching around her, she saw a very _strange_ person approaching her.

He was a little shorter then Christine, and carried over his head an umbrella that was white with snow. From the waist upwards he was like an ordinary man, but his legs were shaped like a goat's (the hair on them was glossy black) and instead of feet he had goat's hoofs. He also had a tail, but Christine did not notice this at first because it was neatly caught p over the arm that held the umbrella so as to keep it from trailing in the snow. He had a red woolen muffler around his neck, and his skin was sort of reddish, too. He had a strange, but pleasant little face, with a short pointed beard and curly hair, and out of the hair there stuck two horns, one on each side of his forehead. One of his hands, as stated, held the umbrella; in the other arm he carried several brown-paper parcels. What with the parcels and the snow it looked just as if he had been doing some Christmas shopping.

_But it isn't even December…_Christine thought briefly. Then her eyes went wide with realization.

"You are a Faun!" she exclaimed in shock, before she managed to catch herself. The Faun looked up, and dropped all his parcels.

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the Faun.

"Good evening," Christine said, once she remembered her manners. She bent down to help the Faun pick up his parcels. Once they had finished, the Faun gave her a little bow.

"Good evening, good evening," said the Faun. "Excuse me – I don't want to be inquisitive – but should I be right in thinking that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

"I'm afraid," Christine said, "That I do not understand you. My name is Christine Daaé."

"But you are – forgive me – you are what they call a woman?"

"But of course!" Christine exclaimed.

"You are in fact…_Human_?" the Faun asked cautiously.

"Yes, of course I am human."

"To be sure, to be sure," said the Faun. "How stupid of me! But I've never seen a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve before. I am _delighted._ That is to say-" and then he stopped as if he had been about to say something he had not indented to say. "Delighted, delighted. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus."

Christine smiled and clapped her hands together in delight. "A pleasure to meet you indeed, Monsieur Tumnus."

"And may I ask, O Christine Daaé Daughter of Eve," said Monsieur Tumnus, "how have you come into Narnia?"

"Narnia?" Christine asked, in confusion, "What is that?"

"Why, _this_ is the land of Narnia," said the Faun, "where we are now; all that lies between the lamppost and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you – you have come from the Wild Woods of the West?"

Christine laughed. Surely this was all part of Erik's game! "Not at all, Monsieur Tumnus. I came in from the wardrobe, in Erik's room."

"Ah!" said Monsieur Tumnus in a rather downhearted voice, "if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now."

"But they are not countries at all!" said Christine, laughing again, "It's just back there." Christine pointed in the direction she game, and then frowned. "At least – I'm not sure! But it is not so cold there…" Christine finished, wrapping her arms around herself again.

"Meanwhile, it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the bright city of War Drobe in the land of Eriksoom, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

"Thank you very much, Monsieur Tumnus, but I was just wondering whether I should be going back. Erik will be very worried…"

"Oh, but it is only just around the corner." Pleaded the Faun, "And there'll be a roaring fire – and toast – and sardines – and cake."

Christine frowned. Well…_surely _Erik would not be back yet, and even if he was, he must know about the wintry land in his wardrobe. He'd know where to find her…and she had always wanted to meet a Faun.

"Well, I shall not be able to stay long," Christine said, "but that is very kind of you and I will gladly accept your offer."

"If you will take my arm, Daughter of Eve, I shall be able to hold the umbrella for both of us. That's the way. Now – off we go."

Christine smiled and hummed a soft tune as they walked, and they had not gone far before they came to a place where the ground became rough and there were rocks all about and little hills creating small valleys. At the bottom of one very small valley Monsieur Tumnus turned suddenly aside as if they were going to walk straight into an unusually large rock, but at the last moment Christine found he was leading her into the light of a wood fire. Then Monsieur Tumnus stooped and took a flaming piece of wood out of the fire with a neat little pair of tongs, and lit a lamp.

"Now, we shan't be long." He said, and immediately put a kettle on. Christine thought she had never been in a nicer place. It was a small, dry, clean cave of reddish stone, with a dark carpet on the floor and two little chairs ("One for me and one for a friend," said Monsieur Tumnus), and a little wooden table and a dresser and a mantelpiece over the fire and above that a picture of an old Faun with a grey beard. In one corner was a door which Christine thought must lead to his bedroom, and on one wall was a shelf full of books. With her curiosity and love of stories, Christine could not help but to look through them while Monsieur Tumnus set the table for tea. The titles were such things as The Life and Letters of Silenus or Men, Monks and Gamekeepers; A Study in Popular Legend and Is Man a Myth or Nymphs and Their Ways. Christine's hand reached out the latter when Monsieur Tumnus said,

"The tea is set, Daughter of Eve!"

It was really a wonderful tea. There was a brown egg that was lightly boiled for each of them, and plain toast, and then buttered toast, and then toast with honey, and then toast with jam, but Christine refused the sardines on toast once she couldn't decided which she hated more: sardines or toast. Then there was sugar-coated cake, and when Christine was tired of eating (and so full she felt a little sick), the Faun began to talk. He had wonderful tales to tell of life in the forest. He told her about midnight dances and how the Nymphs who lived in the wells and the Dryads who lived in the trees came out to dance with the Fauns; about long hunting parties after the milk-white stag who would give you a wish if you caught him; about feasting and treasure-seeking with the wild Red Dwarfs in deep mines and caverns far beneath the forest floor; and then about summer when the woods were green and old Silenus on his fat donkey would come to visit them, and sometimes Bacchus himself, and then the streams would run with wine instead of water and the whole forest would give itself up to jollification for weeks on end. Christine listened intently with wide eyes, delighted to hear stories once again, and such stories that reminded her so of her Father.

"Not that it ever happens anymore," said the Faun sadly, "now that it is always winter now." Then to cheer himself up, he took out from a beautiful wooden case a strange little flute that looks as if it were made of straw, and he began to play. The tune he played made Christine was to cry and laugh and jump up and dance around the cave, or sing, and it made her want to sleep all at the same time. Soon, she decided on sleeping, and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about dancing with Nymphs and Dryads.

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RubyMoon's Secret Place

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RubyMoon: Yes, I know. A lot of this is just ripped off from the book. But I PROMISE, as time goes on it'll be more and more original. There just wasn't that much to change yet, and I liked the way C. S. Lewis described things, and I know I can't do a better job, so I left that, too. But things will get more interesting, I promise.

Also, I don't think there were lampposts back then, but since a lamppost is kind of important to Narnia and isn't that important in Phantom, I decided to keep it.

And yeah, this fic doesn't really know if its going to be a humor or serious fic when it grows up…so I guess it'll be kind both.

So, for now…please review. Please don't flame, but I enjoy criticism (but stating AGAIN that I just basically copied the book again isn't going to help much, mind). Ja Ne!


	2. A Very Good Faun Indeed

AN: Yeah, more ripping off. Sorry. It'll get more and more original, I promise. But right now not much is changing. Christine seems to be so much like Lucy that I think not much would have changed. But what with….a certain person…playing the part of…a certain person….things will start to change a bit next chapter. I can't wait!

Disclaimer: See last chapter.

Coupling: Who knows?

THANKS SO MUCH Misty Breyer and MetalMyersJason! I was SO HAPPY so have reviews for this. Yes, **MetalMyersJason**, I'll be continuing this. Obviously. But the updates may be a little…not-so-often, with my most popular fanfic Isis reaching the more serious part of the story, and with having to update Canary more often since I'm forgetting more and more of the game. And thanks for the info on lamp-posts. **Misty Breyer**, I love Pride and Prejudice, too:) And I'm not sure if Erik likes Turkish Delight…guess we'll find out!

Anyway….enjoy!

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When Christine woke up, it felt as though she had been asleep for hours. She glanced around her a moment, taking in the small, well-furnished cave, and then she remembered her adventure.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed as she sat up from the chair. "Oh, I must be going back! I only meant to stay a few minutes."

She frowned as she looked at Monsieur Tumnus, who sat in his chair with his hands covering his face. It sounded as though he were crying.

"Oh, it's no good _now_, you know," he said.

"What do you mean, 'no good'?" Christine said fearfully. "Whatever do you mean? I must go back at once – Erik will be frightfully worried about me! Oh, Monsieur Tumnus, whatever is the matter? Do tell me what is wrong."

But he continued sobbing as if his heart would break.

"Monsieur Tumnus! Do stop at once! What are you crying about? Aren't you well?" Christine asked.

"Oh-oh-oh!" sobbed Monsieur Tumnus. "No, I am not. I am crying because I am a very bad Faun!"

"I don't think you're a very bad Faun at all," said Christine. "In fact, I think you are a very _nice_ Faun."

"Oh-oh-you wouldn't say that if you knew," replied Monsieur Tumnus. "No, I am a bad Faun. I don't suppose there was a worse Faun since the beginning of the world."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked. "You haven't done anything…have you?"

"My father would never have done a thing like this!" exclaimed the Faun. "That's his picture, there, on the mantelpiece."

Christine glanced over at the picture, then back at Monsieur Tumnus.

"It's a lovely picture. But please, please- a thing like _what?_"

"Like what I've done." He said. "Taken service under the White Witch. That's what I am. I am in the pay of the White Witch."

"But, please, who is she?"

"Who is she? Why, it is she who has all Narnia under her spell. It's she who makes it always winter. Always winter, and never Christmas. Think of that!"

"Oh, how awful!" Christine exclaimed. "But why would you help someone like that? What does she pay a good Faun like _you_ for?"

"But that is just it. I am not good, not good at all." He began to sob again. In between his sobs, he spoke: "I'm a – a kid – kidnapper for her, that's what I – I am." He gained control of himself once more, and then tried to speak again:

"Look at me, Daughter of Eve. Would you believe that I am the sort of Faun to meet a poor, innocent woman in the woods, one that had never done me any harm, and pretend to be friendly with it, and invite it home, all for the sake of lulling it to sleep and then handing it over to the White Witch?"

"No, I do not think you would ever do something so-Oh!" she exclaimed as it dawned on her.

"Yes, you are the woman. I had orders from the White Witch that if ever I saw a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve in the wood, I was to catch them and hand them over to her. And you are the first I have ever met. And I have pretended to be your friend, and asked you to tea, and all this time I've been meaning to wait until you were asleep and then go and tell _Her._"

Christine panicked, and honestly, I couldn't blame her. Kidnapped _again?_

"Oh, but you cannot, Monsieur Tumnus! You won't, will you? Indeed, indeed, you really mustn't. Erik will be dreadfully upset! And Raoul-" her words died in her throat at the thought of her childhood sweetheart.

"Of course not." He said. "Of course I can't, I see that now. But-if she finds out, as I am certain she will…she'll have my tail cut off, and my horns sawn off, and my beard plucked out, and she'll wave her wand over my beautiful cloven hoofs and turn them into horrid solid hoofs like a wretched horse's. And – And if she is extra and specially angry at me, she'll turn me into stone and I shall be only a statue of a Faun until the four throne at Cair Paravel are filled – and goodness knows when that will happen, or whether it will ever happen at all."

Christine wanted to ask what Cair Paravel was, since the name sounded so pretty, but she had more pressing matters.

"I am terribly sorry, Monsieur Tumnus, I truly am, but you really _must_ let me go back!"

"Of course I will. I hadn't known what Humans were like before I met you. Of course I can't give you up to the Witch, not now that I know you. But we must be off at once. I'll see you back to the lamp-post. I suppose you can find your own way back to…what was it? Eriksoom and War Drobe?"

Christine laughed lightly. "I'm certain that I can."

"We must go as quietly as we can," said Monsieur Tumnus, "The whole wood is full of _her_ spies. Even some of the trees are on her side."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Christine in shock. Monsieur Tumnus picked up his umbrella and was about to open the door when Christine placed a hand on his arm. "Wait a moment." She said. She reached into the sleeve of her dress and took out a handkerchief that Erik had given her. She glanced at the initial 'M' on the corner, but then offered it to the Faun. "First you must dry your face from the tears…or you'll be certain to freeze!"

The Faun accepted the handkerchief gratefully and wiped his face quickly. They then set out from his cave and into the snow. They journey back to the lamp-post was not at all like the journey to the cave; they walked as quickly as they could, and did not speak a word to each other. Monsieur Tumnus stuck to the darkest of places, so much so that Christine was almost grateful she had spent the last week under the Opera in darkness, or she would have surely lost her footing. She was, however, relived when they reached the lamp-post.

"Do you know your way from here, Daughter of Eve?"

Christine looked between the trees and was certain she could see the cloaks inside the wardrobe.

"Yes, I am certain I can." She said softly. "And please, do call me Christine."

"Alright." Said the Faun, nervously glancing about. "You ought to be on your way, as quickly as you can. And c-can you ever forgive me for what I was about to do?"

Christine smiled genuinely and her eyes sparkled. "Why, of course I can, Monsieur Tumnus. And I do hope you don't get into any trouble on my account."

The Faun nodded. "Well, farewell, Daughter of Eve – that is to say, Christine." He corrected himself. He lifted up her handkerchief. "Perhaps I may keep the handkerchief?"

Christine paused, and then nodded. "Why, of course you can. Farewell, Monsieur Tumnus." She gave a small curtsy then turned and began quickly walking for the wardrobe. And presently she felt, instead of rough branches, she felt the soft fabric of the cloaks, and instead of snow under her feet, she felt wooden boards, and all at once she found herself jumping out of the wardrobe into Erik's room. She glanced around, and then shut the wardrobe door tightly behind her, panting for breath. A moment later she heard Erik's voice.

"Christine?"

Of course! She had been gone for hours, he must have come back. He must be worried about her. But what would he say about her snooping about his private room?

It didn't matter now. She had to tell him about the Faun and Narnia and the fact that it was all in his wardrobe! She rushed for his door and opened it. Erik stood just in front of the door in his usual dress-suit which hung off his thin bones, holding several brightly-colored parcels.

"I'm here, I'm here! It's alright, Erik. I'm sorry I was gone so long."

Erik looked at her a moment, confused.

"I've only just come back, Christine. Where did you go? Why are you in my room? If you wanted to see it again, I could have shown you."

Christine frowned. "But I've been gone for hours and hours…you were gone that long?"

Erik looked worried now. He took a step closer to her and set down the parcels down onto the table. "Hours? Christine…I have only been gone an hour and thirty-five minutes…you cannot have been in there for that long."

Now Christine was terribly confused. How could he have only been gone that short amount of time? That was about the time she entered the wardrobe…surely he had lost track of time!

"But, Erik, that is impossible. I went into your wardrobe and was gone for hours…are you certain you have only just come back?"

Erik walked up to her until he took just a foot from her. He looked down into her blue eyes in concern. "In my…wardrobe?"

"Oh, yes!" Christine exclaimed. "I had forgotten to tell you. It isn't an ordinary wardrobe – didn't you know that?"

"What do you mean, Christine?" he paused. "…Are you feeling well?

"I am not ill, Erik! Come and see for yourself! There's a wood- and a Faun – and a Witch – oh, come see!" she opened the door and went back into Erik's room. Erik hesitated a moment, then followed her. She walked to the wardrobe and flung to doors open. "Go in and see, Erik!"

Erik looked at her, worried. He decided it was best to humor her, and stepped into his wardrobe. He pushed the coats aside and reached his hand out into the darkness, though he could already see the back of the wardrobe. He knocked on the solid wood, and then stepped back out.

"I am sorry, Christine…it is just a normal, ordinary wardrobe." He said. She must have been playing a game. …still, her eyes were tearing up and she rushed into the wardrobe, and then cried out when she knocked on the back of the wardrobe.

"Oh, it was right here! I promise it was!" she cried as she came out of the wardrobe.

"…of course it was, Christine." Erik said. "I believe you."

"Oh, no, you don't!" She rushed out of the room, and he could hear her door slam shut.

Erik sighed. Perhaps he had kept her underground with him _too_ long. He'd have to take her back up to the surface once she left her room again.

Erik shut to door to the wardrobe and headed for the door. He paused a moment to glance back at it, then sighed and shut to door. He had one last meal to make for her.

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** RubyMoon's Secret Place**

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RubyMoon: Well, please review. They really brighten my day, and trust me; lately I REALLY need my days a little brighter. Please, no flames.


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